


love and hate

by fudgernutter



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Racism, Work, shit hole job, tags to come
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-12-16 01:04:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11817972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fudgernutter/pseuds/fudgernutter
Summary: Life sucks but that's not new. At least you have a few things that will help combat the soul-sucking tedium of life.Basically a rant fic for my shitty job and anyone else who has a shitty job as well.





	love and hate

You hate yourself. 

Well no, scratch that, you don’t really hate yourself. You hate what your job turns you into. It’s _soul sucking_. Absolutely relentless in a way that you didn’t think was absolutely possible. And in all of your measly 24 years of living you’ve worked some shitty jobs.

And honestly? To be 100%, completely, truly honest? You did not put yourself through college on a shitty minimum wage job to come out working for only a couple dollars more. 

You want to quit. You need to. To save whatever is left of your sanity you need to leave this hell-hole but your bank account tells you that until one of your bajillion applications rolls though you’re stuck in this soul-shattering, heart-wrenching, mind-numbing place. 

So here you are, coffee in hand like the caffeine addled computer monkey you are, just trying to get to your car in the company parking garage so you can go home and just eat the leftover Chipotle you have in your fridge before you go to the gym like some kind of adult. Or you would be, if not for the slowness of the afternoon rush seemingly bottlenecking at the ticket comp booth. Because apparently remembering to pull a ticket out before you get to the booth is so complicated?

“Really?” You hear the husky voice of some asshole yell in front of you interrupting your angry, coffee-fueled internal monologuing. “What do you _mean_ you can’t comp my ticket?”

“*sorry sir, but the ticket is two weeks out of date. you’re going to have to pay the fine per the garage’s regulations,” comes the reply; a dronning, bored, baritone laced with a hint of annoyance.

“Try it again! I parked here this morning! Can’t you check the cameras or something?”

“*sir, it’s against policy to do that. if you can get it comped by someone from the building I can let you through then.”

“This is completely ridiculous! I’m going to complain to your manager and then-”

“ _Dude_ , stop being a racist fuck and just go get your ticket comped. The lady at the front desk will do it for free,” comes a third even more irritated voice in the line. The line becomes dead silent before it shuffles, and an older white man wearing a rumpled suit, with a red and sweaty face stomps past. You can’t help but to glare at him as he walks past, nose crinkling as you catch a whiff of B.O. waft off of him. You recognize him as one of the CSR’s from your company and his current actions further cements him as a complete douch-nozzle.

“What the fuck Richard,” you mutter under your breath as you turn back to the line that slowly starting to pick up the pace.

Eventually you reach the booth, and you pull out your ticket, sliding it across the counter just as the attendee says, “*ticket?”

“Hey sorry about that guy. I work with him. He’s a real asshat honestly,” You tell the attendee as you adjust your bag and pull out your keys.

“*eh, you know what they say. _hatters_ gonna hate,” you hear him reply, the distinct sound of paper sliding against the metal table letting you know you’re ready to go. You can’t help the quirk to your lips as you look up, hand already posed to grab your ticket when you actually see the person behind the counter.

It’s a fucking skeleton. Well skeleton monster. And you’re trying really hard not to look astonished or amazed or excited. All things which you are as your previously perfectly working noggin slows down to a snail's pace while the smile on your face hitches higher.

“Really?” You ask, trying not to laugh at the lame pun. The skeleton… Monster smiles back, his eye sockets crinkling up with the force it.

“*what? you better go on a- _head_. others are _beanie_ waiting.” You actually do laugh this time, pure delight filling you up for the first time today. 

“Yeah, yeah,” you reply, waving your non-coffee hand in dismissal. “I’ll let you do your work then. Have a good day!”

You see his hand raise in a quick salute as he turns to the next person in line while you continue to your car. When you get to it and finally sit down you can’t help but smile. Maybe this job was awful, but people like that? People like that make it better.

You hope you can speak with him again tomorrow.


End file.
